


Birds on the Wing

by izloveshorses



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Almost Kiss, Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Self-Indulgent, Unresolved Sexual Tension, it's about the hands, it's about the yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-01 08:00:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses
Summary: “Do you think I’m ready?” Her question was muffled by her sobs and his suit collar.“Of course,” he whispered into her hair.“What if,” she pulled away, but her hands still lingered on his chest. “What if she doesn’t remember me? What if she doesn’t even like me? What if—”“Hey, she’ll love you.” If Anya could cradle this cold and bitter conman’s heart— the heart he willingly gave to her— surely melting the Dowager’s icy walls would be no different.Thank god he didn’t say that thought out loud.“And what if she does?”“What?”“What if she does like me? What will I do then?” Her gaze dropped to his lapel, unable to meet his eye. “What then… would you… what will happen to us?”~~~Lost scene during Quartet at the Ballet.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 83





	Birds on the Wing

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! Another rare case of Iz actually writing from yours truly. This has been what I play in my head as I fall asleep for the past few weeks. I even drew something (check out my Tumblr)! Needless to say it's perfectly catered towards me and the tropes I like and my favorite scene(s) from the show (basically anything with the Blue Dress™) so y'all have been warned.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dmitry didn’t know what to do.

Anya was fidgeting in her seat, the beams of light from the stage reflecting off of her blue dress making her glow. He was trying to focus on the ballet, but his nerves were wretched, and… well, how could you ignore someone as radiant as her?

Like a fool, he’d almost kissed her. Falling in love with the girl in the parade wasn’t part of the plan. He kept reminding himself to keep his nerve and see this through to the end, but it wasn’t getting any easier.

She was suffocating her silk glove when he lost whatever control he had and reached over to wrap her fingers into his. Immediately, she stilled, but she didn’t relax into her seat like he’d hoped. With the orchestra screaming for attention, and with everything on his mind, he didn’t blame her. It was pretty overwhelming. She squeezed his hand and jumped up from her seat and hurried out into the hallway. His hand was cold without her warmth— he was cold and bitter without her in his life. 

Heart in his throat, Dmitry followed her to the hallway, letting the door close softly behind him. Anya was several paces ahead, walking briskly through the lobby. 

“Anya?” he called. She didn’t slow down, so he ran to catch up to her. “Anya what—” he tugged at her wrist and she whipped around, furiously wiping away tears. Oh no, did _ he _ make her cry? “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Anya, it’s okay, just tell me—”

She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed once into his shoulder. At first he had no idea what to do— this wasn’t the first time he had to comfort her, but she had never _ hugged _ him before. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist underneath her train, holding her as tight as he could, hoping this would help sooth whatever was hurting her. Why had he waited this long to embrace her like this?

“Do you think I’m ready?” Her question was muffled by her sobs and his suit collar.

“Of course,” he whispered into her hair.

“What if,” she pulled away, but her hands still lingered on his chest. “What if she doesn’t remember me? What if she doesn’t even _ like _ me? What if—” 

“Hey, she’ll _ love _ you.” If Anya could cradle this cold and bitter conman’s heart— the heart he willingly gave to her— surely melting the Dowager’s icy walls would be no different.

Thank _ god _ he didn’t say that thought out loud.

She shook her head. “And what if she _ does _?”

“What?”

“What if she _ does _ like me? What will I do then?” Her gaze dropped to his lapel, unable to meet his eye. “What then… would you… what will happen to us?”

His heart skipped a beat. Did she mean she was conflicted about this as well? Was she wondering if the circumstances were different, would they have started something more? 

They were standing so close, perhaps the closest they’d ever been, even, but it wasn’t close enough. Anya’s hand was resting on his heart and the other was holding his collar, fingers tightening and loosening, like she was deciding something. She started to take a step away but he covered her hand with his, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. They were both wearing gloves but his skin burned at her touch. Could she feel his heart pounding underneath her palm? He bent down, forcing her to meet his eyes. 

Instead of raising his head up again, he cautiously rested his forehead against hers, drinking her in. She didn’t let go of his gaze this time, except when her eyes flickered down to his lips, answering all of his questions. 

The distant music from the performance seemed to fade and everything was _ Anya; _ her dress felt a bit scratchy under his hand, the radiant blue fabric incomparable to her eyes, eyes that could put the stars to shame, and he was close enough to count every individual freckle on her cheeks. In exchange for his self-control he got a fleeting dash of courage and his grip on her back tightened just a bit. She inhaled and moved even closer until her nose brushed against his. He pressed his nose into her cheek. She was _ so close _ , he could feel her breath on his skin, and it would be so easy to close the gap. Oh god, he wanted to press her up against a pillar and kiss her until he couldn’t breathe, and then she’d trail her fingers through his hair, and then… where would they be? Whatever insane courage he had flowing through his nerves faltered at the thought so he pulled away a fraction. But she was almost magnetized to him— she followed, and once again they were dangerously close. It was a dance of sorts, forward then back, close then distant. They were waltzing precariously close to the edge of a wonderful, beautiful, _ impossible _ dream.

He just had to move an _ inch _ closer… 

The muffled applause of the theatre brought Dmitry back to his senses. His stomach was still somersaulting and his skin still tingled where they touched, but his courage was gone. _ Foolish. _ Foolish for thinking he could kiss her, foolish for not following through.

He was suddenly aware of the orchestra dancing across his heart, of where they were, of how close they were standing. Too soon, guests were filing out of the theatre and into the lobby. Whatever privacy they had in their already-fragile moment was broken. Yet… he wasn’t ready to pull away. Her heartbreakingly blue eyes were searching his for an answer. _ Where will you go, _ she seemed to ask. _ What will happen after this? _

One of her hands slid down to hold his forearm, the other still rested on his heart underneath his palm. He lifted it to press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“We will celebrate after,” he whispered, embarrassed by the scratchiness of his voice, “on your grandfather’s bridge.” _ No matter what happens, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere _. A silent promise. 

He cradled her hands and she took a shaky breath. “I’m ready.” She gave him a slow, sad smile. 

In spite of himself the corner of his mouth turned upwards. He would’ve been content to stand there, in this moment just for them, if it weren’t for Vlad standing by the door, catching his eye. He gave Dmitry one solemn shake of his had and walked towards them, Lily trailing behind. 

Anya turned but still clung to his hand at her side. He gave her a comforting squeeze, unnoticeable to anyone not paying attention.

He gestured for her to follow them, cleared his throat, mustered up his usual confidence, and then addressed Lily, “You will announce the Grand Duchess, Anastasia Romanov!”

“Come, darling!” Lily chirped, taking Anya by the elbow. “We don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Anya gave him one last hopeful smile over her shoulder and her hand slipped from his fingers. It took every ounce of willpower he had left to keep his feet planted where they were instead of following her. He clenched his hand into a fist, already missing her, a silly notion considering she was just on the other side of the door, and he wasn’t planning on leaving. To cope with the immediate dread and cold left in her place he kept reminding himself of what was to come— she’d find her family, he’d get some cash. But he knew letting her go would destroy him.

As Anya walked away from him into the Dowager’s private box, the train of her dress fluttering gently behind her, Dmitry swore he saw a bird taking flight.

**Author's Note:**

> aahhhh so I cried a lot while writing this la;kdsafjaf especially when u think about what happens right after this scene when she comes back out and says she hates him for using her :))))))))))))))))
> 
> Come cry with me on Tumblr @izloveshorses <3


End file.
